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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727724">Simulations Evolve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeunobow/pseuds/takeunobow'>takeunobow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Muse (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Simulation Theory, simulationtheory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:08:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeunobow/pseuds/takeunobow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Simulations Evolve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/writersofcydonia/gifts">writersofcydonia</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he heard the toilet flush, Matt sighed with relief. He had been attempting to remove a blockage for an hour now with little success but had finally managed to dislodge it in one way or another. The cubicle was grimy, odourous and festering with mould; he was trying his hardest not to gag but could feel the familiar sickness that came with having to endure such an environment. He replaced the toilet brush in its holder and breathed in the ever-so-slightly fresher air of the sink area. The tap spluttered to life as he turned it on, waiting a couple of seconds for the water to warm. Ridding his hands of all of the germs they had collected throughout the day, he then rinsed his face and turned the tap off, looking briefly at his reflection in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>His skin was pale, almost to the point of being translucent. The sallowed cheeks and sharp jawline made his face very angular and a little cold-looking. His small lips were slightly cracked from the dehydration of working all day but his eyes looked as alive as ever. A light blue so intense that they almost looked out of place next to his skin. Wiping his face down with a paper towel, he quickly ran a hand through his dyed red hair - spiked up just how he liked it. His boss had never been a massive fan of it but hey, they were understaffed and Matt was cheap labour. He adjusted the collar of his uniform and, just before he left the bathroom, rolled down his sleeves so as to not expose the drawn-on-with-Sharpie veins that covered his skinny arms. If anyone here saw them, he'd be done for.</p><p> </p><p>Jumping down from the truck housing the portable toilets, Matt checked his watch and started to make his way across the gargantuan field. His job as a cleaner at Teignmouth's biggest festival ground came with its perks - he got to see glimpses of the performing bands setting up their equipment and even soundchecking their material on occasion. Ever since he was little he had had a passion for music - neither his guitar or keyboard ever managed to gather even a speck of dust. Smiling to himself, he remembered the first time he had heard Nocturne No. 2 by Chopin and had always dreamed of writing his own songs with a prominent classical influence like that.</p><p> </p><p>The sun had already started to set on the small Devon town and Matt sped up to a jog. As soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the cold would begin to set in and he didn't have a warm change of clothes. As if to remind him of this, his body involuntarily shuddered but he kept his eyes on his destination - his boss's office just metres now in front of him. The building was small but uninviting; the paint on the walls was slowly peeling and the tiles on the roof were beginning to erode away from the wind damage that came with living on the coast.</p><p> </p><p>He opened the door which always gave him a little squeak, almost as if it was telling him to 'squeak off'. Following the narrow hallway, he looked briefly at the photos on the walls, each from a different concert. Oh, how he had dreamed of touring the world. But as what? His A Level in Music meant that he had a wide classical background, but he wasn't sure he fancied just playing classical piano. Maybe he would fuse genres together and tour as a rock pianist or something.</p><p> </p><p>He knocked the door at the end of the hallway and waited for the familiar dry 'enter'. No response. Frowning and cocking his head slightly to one side, he tried again, this time a little louder. Still nothing. He had to be here; he was always here at this time. Plus Matt needed to collect his paycheck and he was not leaving without it. Rent had been tougher than ever this month, what with fewer and fewer ticket sales at recent concerts. Taking a deep breath and wiping his now clammy hands on his shirt, he pushed on the door to his boss's office and it swung open.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing could've prepared him for what he saw. The man was slumped over his desk, body twitching and spasming. Each time he moved he would 'glitch' and disappear for a second, almost as if he was in a video game. He scanned the room, rubbing his hands together nervously, looking for what could have possibly caused this when something caught his eye from outside the window. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he crept towards it, closing his eyes for a split second. What if he was next? Or, if he wasn't killed, he'd surely be a witness in court. Maybe even the murder suspect!</p><p> </p><p>Opening his eyes again, he looked out of the window to see a figure crouched on the floor, eating something that he couldn't possibly identify. It had long, dark, slightly matted hair that ended in greasy clumps and bald patches on their scalp. The hands that held the unidentified food object were bony and boasted long, black talons. As he watched, its head snapped up, noticing him, and he stared into bright red eyes and a mouthful of fangs. The creature snarled at him and, within a split second, the air rippled around it and it was gone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Matt slammed the door of his apartment and locked himself in, breathing heavily. Every time he blinked he could see those eyes, etched into the back of his skull. What did it mean? Was there a glitch in the simulation? HIS simulation!? He ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes, trying to think. For years there had been the threat of an uprising within it, but it had always been contained. Nothing went in and nothing went out. That was how it should be. So what in God's name did he just see down at the festival campground?</p><p> </p><p>Fear flowing through him, he made his way down the narrow hallway to his room, or Den, as he liked to call it. Opening the door, he was greeted with the familiar hum of the machine. On the left side of his room was a single bed with crescent moons on the duvet cover. The moon had always fascinated him; it had a strange hold over him and once he started to look at it he always struggled to look away. His mum had always had an unhealthy obsession with the occult, and he knew that she saw something unusual within him, even from a young age. He had always been dubious about how real it all was, but his mum seemed to be able to read people like no other.</p><p> </p><p>On the opposite side of his room was what looked like an old arcade machine, with purple and blue LED lights illuminating the edges and a single joystick control in the centre. His beautiful method of control.</p><p> </p><p>Walking over to it, he briefly looked at the lead plugging it into the wall. He could simply disconnect it and end it all. But there was too much life inside his simulation that he had created and destroying it all now would just be wasteful. The time he had spent on it was too valuable. Not to mention the strange connection he felt with it; it was almost as if by helping the citizens inside it was keeping him alive in one way or another. But maybe it would be easier to just stop everything, release the inhabitants from their sad existences and finally be at peace with himself.</p><p> </p><p>At the start things had been simple. People would follow orders, be kind to each other and there were enough resources to go round. But their sentience and the ever growing population had allowed them free will and that of course had led to lesser control over the whole system. People didn't like to be controlled, of course they didn't, but someone had to stop some of the monstrosities from escaping into the world. Although, judging by what he had seen today, he had failed on that front.</p><p> </p><p>He reached out a hand and rested it on the joystick. It glowed the familiar red colour that he had grown to fear, but at least it hadn't changed in the past few months. Not yet, anyway. In the beginning it had been green, and he could only guess what it all meant, but that period had been a time of happiness, of health and of prosperity. That had changed slowly as the people multiplied and evolved (or, more likely, devolved) into strange human-like creatures, turning the joystick to a sickly yellow colour. He could remember panicking, starving himself and not leaving his room for days on end, trying to work out a solution to the problem.</p><p> </p><p>The real problem had come when the people disappeared. Slowly, more and more humans turned into these awful creatures, with the creatures having developed the ability to bite people to turn them. Almost like vampires, but far more violent and animalistic. Soon enough, only a tiny amount of people remained, hiding wherever they could in abandoned buildings and the like. The creatures had spread to every corner of the simulation, and he could sense that they were searching for an exit. This was when the joystick had turned red.</p><p> </p><p>Looking at the screen, he saw the same overview as he always had done. Three levels of simulation, each one caged within the one above it. The lowest level consisted of military bunkers, violence and a few of the dangerous creatures here and there. This was where the creatures had originated and had eventually mostly escaped to the upper levels from; the simulation worked like a hierarchy with the higher levels having more resources and a better quality of life. The second level had more developed buildings and infrastructure, such as schools and shops. More of the creatures inhabited this level, leaving most of the buildings abandoned, although he did try to keep them in good shape. It was one of few things he still had control over. Only the top level remained largely how he had intended it to be, with only a few creatures having found it. However, recently, a strange black-hole-like anomaly had developed in the middle and he was afraid of what it contained.</p><p> </p><p>Closing his eyes, he could hear their familiar cries and snarls. It was as if these sounds penetrated his soul, reminding him of what a failure he had become. Grimacing, he ran his free hand through his hair again, trying to figure out a plan. At the edges of the screen, he could see his own reflection, his face a picture of worry. Just as he was about to divert his attention back to the simulation, he saw something strange. Green and blue lines of code flashing across his eyes. Blinking a few times, they returned to normal. What did it mean? Was the simulation close to making a full breakthrough into the real world?</p><p> </p><p>He needed to give them supplies. Every day he would try to give them as much as he could but it was never enough. All it took was for him to think of whatever food he wanted and it would appear in the world for them. But the more food he gave them, the more it sapped his energy. He could only give them a finite amount before he blacked out, which was most days now due to the ever increasing population. What else could he do? He had to at least try.</p><p> </p><p>Focusing his mind, Matt started to think of some simple foods. Cans of soup, basic vegetables, meats, dairy and anything else he could think of. The arm making contact with the joystick started to glow and he felt an electric jolt come from the machine, working its way through his body and rooting him to the spot. Fatigue started to set in, as it did every time, and he could feel his mind slipping away. He had to carry on! Fighting the exhaustion, he kept pushing his thoughts into the simulation, giving the people what they desperately needed. The real world was starting to blur in front of his eyes and he felt his legs begin to fail, pulling him towards the ground. His hand started to slip from the joystick, but not before it changed colour.</p><p> </p><p>Black.</p><p> </p><p>***<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>For a moment Matt was unconscious, completely drained from having to give everything he had to his simulation yet again. But what was this? A strange purple light had started to fill his vision and he blinked, realising he was now awake. His eyes widened as he turned his head, looking around himself. This wasn't his room. He was floating in a sideless tunnel, seemingly gravitating towards something in front of him. All he could see was colour now, with pinks, reds and blues combining into an almost sunset-like aesthetic. Slowly, the lighter colours started to fade out and he was plunged into almost total darkness.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he noticed that there was in fact still light, but it wasn't coming from around him. Looking down, he realised that his whole body was glowing, almost as if he had fallen into a radioactive pool. Raising an eyebrow, he examined his arms with curiosity to find that the veins that he'd drawn on earlier were now glowing a blue-green hue. Touching a finger to one of them, he recoiled as it sent an electric jolt through his body.</p><p> </p><p>He hit the ground with more force than he had been anticipating and his lungs emptied themselves of air, leaving him completely winded. Ah well, it could've been worse. He could've been dead. Although if what had just happened was what he thought had just happened, maybe he would've been better off dead. Picking himself up off the ground, he rubbed his eyes and took a good look at his surroundings, his worst fears confirmed.</p><p> </p><p>He was inside his own creation.</p>
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